Chapter 56 Nora
NORA
An email notification pops up on my iPad from Evan. My heart flutters as I tap the screen with my Apple Pencil, but it’s just a forward email from a client about a job. None of his usual jokes, not even a, hi how are you doing?
I rest my chin in my hand as I slump across my desk, my Apple Pencil twirling between my fingers, and let out a sigh as I gaze across the studio at Ev through the glass partition for like the hundredth time today.
“Maybe when the baby's born he’ll come around,” Cal says.
My spine bristles. “You know?”
“Er…” He glances between me and the office. “Evan told me. He thinks he's doing the right thing for you, Nate, and the baby. So you can be a proper family or something about not ruining your relationship with Nate’s parents.”
I roll my eyes. “Nate won’t even answer their calls.” I've finally got everything I want, but it’s come at the cost of losing people I love. Like I've had to sacrifice everything I hold dear to balance out the universe.
My phone pings.
Nate: Your art looks great on this wall.
I smile as I scroll through the pictures Nate sent of the Life of Wine workshop and kids’ art room.
It’s been done in stages as they decorated, and they had to make some renovations with the old wiring in the building, which set the project back, but the finished job turned out better than I expected.
“Cal, look at your friend’s art studio.” I hand Cal my phone, and he smiles as he scrolls through all the images.
Ev’s in the office, his eyes glued to his laptop. He rarely looks up and only comes in when he knows Nate’s out. While we’re at work, he avoids me in the studio. He’s even stopped eating the food I bring in, which hurt me more than anything.
I want to go to him and show him how the project’s looking.
He worked so hard on the designs for this place, but it’s best for the both of us if I don’t.
I’ll end up crying, and it’s not good for the baby.
I’ve tried my hardest to stay strong, eat the right food, and focus on the new life inside of me rather than the past. Nate says things will get easier with time, but I’m coming up to my sixteen-week mark and nothing is easier.
I should be happy. I am happy. This baby’s filled a gaping hole in my heart, but since Ev left, a new crack has formed, festering like an open wound that won’t heal.
“They look great, Nora.” Cal hands me my phone back, and I text Nate.
Nora: Looking fab. What time will you be home?
Nate: Just leaving Surrey now. Should be home in about four hours, depending on traffic.
Nora: Drive safe.
I lock my phone and set it beside my tablet, stretching my arms above my head. Sitting all morning has left my back stiff, a dull ache settling low in my spine.
“Right,” I say, pushing my chair back. “Tea break.”
Cal hums in agreement, already passing me his empty mug.
I stand with a creak, one hand instinctively resting over my stomach. You wouldn’t know I was pregnant. I just look fat. But I can’t help placing my hand there.
As I take a step towards the kitchen, a strange warmth spreads between my legs. Oh, for goodness’ sake. I need to work on my pelvic floor. I didn’t think I could leek this early on, the baby’s not big enough to press on my bladder.
I slide the mugs onto the kitchen worktop and head for the toilet.
The fluorescent light flickers on as I push the door open and lock myself inside a cubicle.
I pull down my underwear. My heart seizes in my chest. Red. Too bright. Too much. “No,” I whisper, the word barely audible.
My hands shake as I place them over my stomach. Sickness rises in my throat as a cold sweat coats my skin.
A dull cramp curls low in my abdomen, and terror slams into my chest, knocking the air from my lungs.
“No, no, no…Please no.” I wipe between my legs. It’s not flowing out, just a smear on the tissue, but my knickers may as well be a horror scene. This isn’t just discharge or spotting. This isn’t normal.
My breath stutters. My hands tremble as I fumble for more tissue, wiping again, hoping and praying it was a one-off. The paper comes away pink this time, but my heart is already racing too fast, my ears ringing. I can’t breathe. The cubicle is too small. I need air.
Another cramp tightens low in my belly. I pull my underwear back up with clumsy hands, unlock the cubicle, stumble forward and grip the sink before washing my hands.
The room spins. I try to inhale, but my chest locks, lungs refusing to expand. My fingers tingle, numbness creeping up my arms. I splash water on my face, but it doesn’t help. The panic climbs higher, faster, until I can’t tell if I’m going to faint or throw up.
Nate. I need Nate. I push out of the toilet and into the office.
“Cal—” The word breaks halfway out of my mouth.
“Don’t tell me we’re out of coffee.” He spins in his chair, then his eyes widen as he stands. “Whoa, Nora?”
“Something’s wrong,” I gasp, clutching my stomach. My skin is cold but clammy, head light and dizzy.
“What?” He’s beside me in seconds, guiding me to his chair. “Sit down.” He shouts across the studio, “Lou, get Nate on the phone and get Evan out here, now.”
“I can’t—” My breaths come fast and shallow. “Blood. The baby—Cal, I can’t lose this baby.”
“You’re not gonna lose the baby, damn it.” He places both hands on my clammy face. “You’re having a panic attack. Breathe.”
But I can’t. My chest locks up, air refusing to go in properly. Spots dance across my vision.
“Nora?” Evan’s voice floats from a distance. He sounds so far away, like in a dream.
Warm hands hold my face. “Nora.” Ev’s voice is louder this time. “Nora, look at me.”
I try to focus on Ev in front of me. “I can’t breathe,” I choke.
“Look at me, Nora. In through your nose. Slow. Come on.”
I try, but another wave of dizziness crashes over me, and tears spill down my cheeks.
“I need a hospital,” I whisper. “I need to go now.”
“We’re going.” He stands, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll grab my keys—”
“Got them,” Lou shouts. “What happened?”
“I think she’s bleeding,” Cal says.
Evan’s face comes into focus, drained of colour on his knees in front of me. “Nora.” His voice is steady, but his hands tremble as they hover near my arms. “Hey. It’s me. I’m here.”
A sob rips from my chest. “I don’t want to lose the baby.”
“You’re not,” he says. “We’re going to the hospital right now.” He slides an arm behind my back, helping me to my feet. “I’ve got her,” Evan says to Cal. “Grab her bag.”
The office falls silent around us as I teeter on shaky legs, holding on to Ev.
“I’ll lock up,” Cal says as he hands my bag to Ev.
“Lou, can you call the maternity ward for me?” My arms clutch around Evan’s neck, my face pressed into his shoulder as panic keeps clawing at my chest.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says against my hair. “It’s all going to be okay,” he says again, chanting it as if he can will it through prayer. And as he helps me into his car, I repeat my own silent chat—the one I’m all too familiar with.
Please.
Please.
Please.